Porcelain Heart
by HalfDapperHero
Summary: Blaine held not only his heart within his chest, but Kurt's porcelain heart as well, and he had to protect it at all costs./ Kurt had decided long ago that Blaine's porcelain heart was his to watch over, his to protect. They will never let either crack.
1. Chapter 1

"That tickles," Kurt squealed, slender fingers scrabbling at Blaine's arms as the stronger boy overpowered him and tickled his waist. "Stop it ohmygodBlaineSTOP!" Kurt was laughing so hard he was shaking.

"Alright," Blaine consented, releasing Kurt and leaning back into his chair. "But only because you looked like you were about to pee yourself." He ran a hand through his curly black hair, lopsided grin curving slightly over his face. "And I know how expensive those pants were."

Kurt gave an exaggerated sniff of disapproval, smoothing down the lapel of his dark green jacket and the wrinkles out of his fitted jeans. "It's the shoes you should be worried about, these Doc Martens cost more than the all the hair gel you've bought for the past four years put together, and if anything happened to them I would never forgive you."

Laughing, Blaine just shook his head, locking eyes with Kurt. All joking faded away as he became serious. "I bet I could convince you otherwise," he muttered. His hand found its way to his boyfriends and he began stroking it lightly. "There are things out there better than shoes."

Breath caught in his throat, Kurt tried to sound nonchalant as he shot out a reply, but the high pitch gave him away. "Like what?" he squeaked. There was no response as Blaine just continued to gaze into Kurt's eyes, the hazel penetrating all barriers between them. Blaine knew Kurt, was the only one who could truly see into him and recognize his emotions for what they were. Sometimes Kurt hated how easy he was to read to Blaine, how all walls seemed to crumble to pieces when he was with the boy. But mostly he was thankful, mostly he was happy to have someone he could share his inner most self with and be given to in return. Blaine smirked.

"How about we pay and I take you home and show you?" It was an innocent little suggestion, just a flirtatious comment with the promise of more to follow. But Blaine underestimated Kurt's inability to hold onto logic or reason when they were together. Kurt's mocha was downed and money thrown onto the table before Blaine even had a chance to register that Kurt had let go of his hand.

"Ready," Kurt replied breathlessly.

It had been a while since the boys had been given a chance to properly be alone together, a while since they'd had a chance to express their feelings for each other with more than just words and stolen touches. All too often Finn was downstairs watching television or Burt was checking in every two minutes. Blaine's house was not an option and Kurt was too proud to hide away and steal a few moments in public. No, that type of romance was beneath Kurt Hummel.

"Dad's at the garage this afternoon," Kurt assured Blaine as they entered the quiet house.

"What about Finn?" Blaine questioned, glancing around nervously as Kurt took of his jacket and hung it over the couch. He was always a bit afraid of getting Kurt into trouble for being over when he shouldn't have been, but there was no possibility of him denying himself and Kurt these private moments.

"Out or something," Kurt replied, patting his hair delicately as he peered into a hallway mirror. "Do you think I need a haircut? I'm getting a tad shaggy in the back and I don't want to end up as Chewbacca's gay twin brother." Blaine came up behind Kurt and nuzzled his face into his neck, kissing softly below his ear as his arms encircled his waist. Kurt's mouth went dry as his heart began to pound ridiculously against his ribcage so hard he feared bones might fracture. It was crazy, but no matter that they had been dating for nearly six months, any time Blaine touched him he couldn't help feel like it was the first time all over again. "So-what do you think?" he choked out.

"I think you're beautiful," Blaine whispered into Kurt's hair, tracing shapes into the soft flesh peeking out between the top if Kurt's jeans and his cashmere sweater. A shiver raced through his spine like a spike of electricity, setting sparks off in all the right places as the other boy continued to kiss his neck softly. "The most beautiful thing I have ever seen." His tongue began to trace lines along his collar bone.

Kurt gasped, a deep flush coloring his porcelain cheeks as the hair on his arms stood up. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met," he managed out in reply, angling his body so that his lips could find Blaine's in a more straightforward manner.

It was with fervor that neither boy expected that they kissed. Blaine's tongue dived instantly to meet Kurt's as he pushed him against the wall next to the mirror, fire coursing through their bodies in untamed waves of heat. His hands were under Kurt's sweater, cold fingers trailing lines of ice over the warm skin. Soon the expensive sweater was on the carpet, tossed away like a cheap accessory to join Blaine's button down. "Sorry about that," Blaine apologized as he positioned himself against Kurt so that any exposed flesh met the others.

"Doesn't matter," Kurt murmured into Blaine's jaw. "It's from last fall's collection anyway." Blaine chuckled, his hand releasing its grip of his the other boys slender waist and instead tracing the bones of Kurt's shoulders lightly, drawing the slender contours in deep strokes.

Sometimes Blaine didn't understand how someone like Kurt could stand to be with him, how someone so perfect and pure he was almost inhuman could ever claim to love him. He felt so unbelievably lucky to have this boy, to be able to kiss him and touch him and just be with him in ways that no one else on this earth ever had. Kurt was untouched, unbroken, spirited and untamed. Blaine held not only his heart within his chest, but Kurt's porcelain heart as well, and he had to protect it at all costs. Sometimes he didn't think he was strong enough, or that all his bones were held together enough to cage it all. But when he was with Kurt he felt like all his imperfect flaws fell away and that he would be strong enough for anything that came their way.

The electricity running down his spine began in Kurt's, Blaine knew it; and the spaces between his fingers felt like valleys without Kurt's to fill them and his chest felt like it would cave in without Kurt's to help hold him up and all Blaine really knew for sure in this world was that he needed Kurt within reaching distance so that neither could fall without the other to catch them ever again.

"You left your jacket here last week," Kurt told Blaine as his hands traveled to feel the shape of his jaw and chin. "So even when you weren't here I was still wrapped in your arms." Their eyes met, and with a mutual agreement their mouths clashed together in a frenzy of kissing and tongues and hands pulling at hair and learning the lines of each other's bodies all over again even though they were both already so familiar.

It was when they were lying on the couch, hands intertwined and hearts and breath in rhythm alike, flesh against heated flesh, that Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead tenderly and said, "I love you." Kurt cupped the back of Blaine's neck and leaned up, gifting him with the sweetest of kisses.

"I love you too." Blaine stared down into Kurt's turquoise eyes, seeing nothing but the truth in this glowing orbs that so held him steady. Yes, Kurt was pure and delicate, he had a porcelain heart. People became stronger through sorrow, through pain. Supposedly the more you break and the more you heal the stronger you get. But that didn't always apply, and most definitely not to hearts. Kurt's heart and spirit had been broken in the past, and though all was well now Blaine could never allow it to happen again. Kurt was the master of a porcelain heart, and Blaine had set himself the task of guarding it. He would never let anything touch it again.

Once more they began to kiss, bodies arching fluidly into each other in a dance that they both knew so well. It was natural and right and born from their love and the need to express it with such intimacy and closeness. It was unadulterated passion and love that Finn Hudson found himself, unluckily he would say, witnessing as he stepped through the front door.

"HOLY SHIT!" he yelled, stumbling backwards when he spotted the boys making out on the couch.

"FINN," Kurt screeched out, sitting up so sharply he and Blaine crashed foreheads and fell off the couch in a tangle of legs and arms.

"Oh my GOD, couldn't you have at least gone to your bedroom before. . . JESUS! We watch the games on that couch Kurt!" When he saw the shirts lying unceremoniously on the carpet his mouth dropped open and he covered his eyes.

Kurt was mortified. "WE WEREN'T HAVING SEX, SHUT UP FINN!" Blaine grimaced and rubbed his nose as Kurt scrambled to put his sweater back on, not seeming as bothered by this whole situation as Kurt was.

"Alright good," Finn replied, opening his eyes. "But please, go to the basement next time. I don't want to see my step-brother going at it with his boyfriend when I walk into the house.

"I really am sorry," Kurt told Finn, his voice so unnaturally high with embarrassment that even he winced. He was simultaneously apologizing and trying to put a shirt back onto an annoyingly amused and unhelpful Blaine. "Please, don't tell dad."

"I won't, as long as you don't tell him about anything you might accidentally walk in on with me and Rachel." Kurt shuddered at the very idea as he finally finished with Blaine's last button.

"Deal."

"I should probably go now," Blaine told Kurt, obviously bemused by the whole situation. He found Kurt's embarrassment to be far too adorable for his own good, and kissed him to let him know.

"You should," Kurt mumbled, cheeks flaming as he glanced at Finn and felt entirely awkward. Such public displays of affection were not common ground for Kurt and he wasn't sure how to handle it. "I'll get the jacket you left last—"

"Keep it," Blaine told him, grinning with those perfect lips he had. "That way you can still feel like I'm here when-" this time it was Kurt who kissed him, and they were so wrapped up in each other that they both forgot Finn's presence.

Finn danced from foot to foot for a few seconds before coughing loudly to remind them. They broke apart and Blaine whispered, "I love you Kurt." Kurt laughed giddily, still on a high from the kissing.

"I love you too." Blaine gave one of his exaggerated winks and doleful glances as he kissed his cheek and went toward the door.

"Nice seeing you Finn," he said, grinning as he opened the door.

"You too. But Blaine?" Blaine paused halfway out, confusion gripping his features as Kurt's ears likewise perked up.

Finn tried to sound intimidating as he spoke gruffly. "Don't get my brother pregnant, okay?" Laughter accompanied Blaine out the door as Finn's ears turned red.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was snuggled deep within the comforting grip of sheets that have recently been put on a bed, firm and warm with his cheek pressed into his cell phone. The heated plastic was leaving an imprint against his alabaster skin but he didn't care, all that mattered to him was the voice whispering back through the speaker.

"Yeah, I remember that." Blaine chuckled softly. "You were wearing that red scarf you like so much-"

"Only because it matches your cardigan!" Kurt interjected hotly.

"Aww really? That's so adorable Kurt!" Kurt rolled his eyes, free hand twisting around the soft wool fabric draped over his shoulders and sheets, pulling it to his face to deeply inhale his boyfriends scent. It was sweet and heavy, mens cologne mixed with sweat and detergent and expensive hair gel. It smelled like Blaine, and Kurt loved it.

"But now I have the real thing so I don't have to wear that ratty outdated scarf ever again!"

"If it's that much of a travesty I can get you a scarf from this season; Prada perhaps?" Blaine's voice oozed with adoring sarcasm, but Kurt let it slide.

"No thanks, this is enough." He sighed contentedly and took another breath. Mmmmm. He loved waking up to the smell of Blaine. "What about you babe? Want a replacement jacket? I saw this really cute blue-"

"No thanks, you're quite enough for me." Kurt stopped talking, stopped breathing, stopped all rational thought. A silence filled the phone line between them, and for a moment Blaine thought it was an awkward one and that he had said something wrong; had he been too serious too sudden? Clearing his throat, he was about to try and make amends when Kurt's voice whispered back at him.

"You will always be enough. You will always be all I want or all I need. You will always be who I think about who I dream about who I always want to touch everywhere who I love day in and day out." It all came out in a quick, heartfelt rush that shocked Blaine and embarrassed Kurt, but he found he couldn't stop once he had started, that once the truth began he had to pour it out in a torrent of emotion. "But in those moments when I don't have you, when YOU are enough but thoughts aren't, having something that has touched you makes it all a little bit more bearable until I get to see you again."

This time the pause worried Kurt, and his heart began to beat a tattoo against his chest. It wasn't that he wished he hadn't said it, because he didn't, it was all true. He worried the same as Blaine had, that it had been too much too suddenly. Knowing Blaine though he shouldn't have worried.

The phone was static with the emotion and power bleeding from Blaine's voice, and Kurt's heart ached to be unable to respond likewise to succumb to any physical needs his words had brought on.

"You don't understand, I've touched YOU. . . God if you were fucking here," Blaine growled into the receiver, and Kurt felt a sharp stab in his spine that forced a shiver down into the sensitive space between his legs, kickstarting a heat that began to stir in his abdomen. When had Blaine ever sounded so forceful before? His breathing was heavy, was sexy.

"I would. . . Touch you. All over. I would kiss you...your neck, your chest, your god damn fucking wrists!" Kurt's breathing was as erratic as Blaine's as his boyfriend described exactly what he wanted him to do to him, as they both began to feel the effects of unrequited lust. Kurt was hard when Blaine began talking about where he would lick him, and he flipped over and began grinding into his bed. He refused to touch himself to move it along. If this was going to be done only Blaine's words would be needed. The buildup was tense and almost as painful as it was pleasure because he did nothing to relieve himself. As Blaine got to the most crucial of descriptions Kurt just buried his face into the scent lingering in the cardigans threads, imagined his boyfriends face, his eyes looking into his own and his body beneath his as he moaned his name again and again. Suddenly he couldn't hold on any longer; his erection peaked and spasmed, and he came strong and fast into his sheets. It was a relief, and Kurt sank into the sheets with a sigh, for a moment just ignoring the mess and reveling in the pleasure Blaine could give him merely with his voice and a lucrative choice of words.

"D-did you like that?"

"I fucking loved it," Kurt sighed, grinning into his pillow and shifting slightly to be more comfortable. "Do you need me to return the favor?" There was a short embarrassed noise that echoed at him before Blaine told him that in fact, no, he'd managed to get off just picturing that Kurt was.

"I love you," Blaine mumbled earnestly into the phone. Kurt grinned to himself as his breathing finally began to slow down and his heart rate steadied out.

"I love you too." They talked for a little while longer, that type of conversation late at night where you can't remember what was said, you just know that it all made you very happy and comfortable and was perfect in every way shape or form. The peaceful bubble surrounding Kurt was popped shortly thereafter though as he heard a loud banging noise on the other end of the phone and a sharp voice.

"Shit-I-gotta-go," was the only farewell Kurt received before the phone went dead, and he was left to realize that it was no longer pleasant or warm beneath his sheets, and maybe it was time to wash before anything decided to stick permanently.

Kurt was definitely worried as he stripped off his boxers and bunched them up with the sheets that had been clean not so long ago. The only explanation for Blaine's sudden departure was that his father had come in, and he shuddered at the thought of it. He didn't know much of Blaine's home life, only what he chose to share, and what he shared was that his father was less than supportive of his "life-style choice". Sometimes he worried that it involved more than just arguments and disapproving glances, but he was also sure that Blaine would tell him if there was anything more violent going on. Kurt paused as he started up the shower, then shook his head. Blaine would tell him, he was sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello everyone, Kiers here!_

_Thank you for all the views, the favorites, and the couple reviews. I wasn't really expecting any readers until it got longer, but that was a really awesome surprise to wake up to the next morning!_

_This story is M rated for a reason obviously, but that's not what this is about. I'm using this story to explore Kurt and Blaine's relationship, to lean against the frame and see how hard it can stretch before snapping. I'm going to go deep into their relationship with each other, their families, and their friends. Yes, they will have their stolen moments. But for anyone looking for a story solely placed on smut, sorry. :3_

_Thank you for reading this! You're all very kind._

"School starts next week," Kurt said nonchalantly, lacing his fingers with his boyfriends as he caught up to him along the sidewalk in the park. Blaine glanced up at him from beneath the long eyelashes gracing his cheekbones. Kurt was certain that no boy alive was allowed to have such long and luscious eyelashes. He was as sure of this as he was that no boy should have such perfectly shaped lips or such beautiful curly hair or such penetrating eyes or such soft skin. . . Kurt shook himself out of it to hear Blaine's reply. He mustn't get distracted. But god damn, _no boy_ was allowed to look as good as Blaine did.

"Yeah. . . About that." Kurt stumbled over the pavement slightly into Blaine's shoulder, knocking his cheek with his chin and muffling the rest of his sentence.

"Gah, sorry Blaine!" Chuckling, the shorter boy just kissed his boyfriend in response. He didn't mind, he actually thought Kurt's clumsiness was one of his cuter traits. He wouldn't admit it, but Kurt always seemed so cool and collected with such immaculate clothing and speech that it was reassuring to have proof that he was not inhuman, that he in fact had flaws. Kurt cursed his flaming cheeks, trying to redirect Blaine's eyes from his reddened face by smoothing out his shirts collar and straightening the vest. It seemed to work.

"Wow, is that the newest Ralph Lauren?" Pleased, Kurt smiled brightly at his boyfriend, whom he had recently managed to convert into at least a semi-literate "fashionista" of late. He pulled at his dark brown vest, bringing the artfully faded denim beneath into a sharper relief.

"Just came in the mail this morning," he stated proudly. "Went on sale the day before last." Blaine whistled slowly, looking his boyfriend over, his eyes raking down him at an agonizingly steady pace before he spoke.

"The effort shows. You look good Kurt." Giving a slight squeal of excitement that he couldn't quite contain, Kurt tried to take the compliment lightly, but it was obvious he was pleased. It wasn't often anyone complimented his style, other than stating his obvious good taste. His obvious _flamboyant_ taste. Kurt liked to know every once in a while that his efforts were not going unnoticed by the person who mattered most to him.

"Thanks," he replied shyly, bumping shoulders with him. Blaine tightened his grip on his boyfriend's hand, shifting his arm slightly so his cardigan sleeve didn't ride up above his wrist even though it was about eighty degrees out that day. They may have been for a stroll in the park, but the air was dead and unmoving as they walked through it, not a breeze in reaching distance.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I forgot to tell you." Kurt shot his boyfriend a puzzled look. Anything that had been "forgotten" could not be good news, because to be honest, who forgot to mention good things? If you win the lottery you're not going to forget to boast it to anyone within hearing distance. No, Kurt often found that sentences beginning like that just could not be leading up to anything pleasant.

"Yeah?" He encouraged, squeezing his hand tightly once, twice, in a comforting gesture.

Blaine took a deep breath, trying to use that simple action as a calming medication to still his fiercely beating heart and the wings of the butterflies in his stomach. "Well I was thinking that maybe it was high time the Warblers found a new leading songbird," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at Kurt's piercing blue-green eyes. "I've had enough time in the spotlight; I think someone else deserves a chance at a solo. Besides, after being with you all summer I can't imagine a day going by where I don't see you. . ." he could feel his hand getting sweaty in the other boys grip and nervously tried to pull away. Kurt wouldn't let him.

"Blaine," he questioned. "Are you saying you're transferring to McKinley? To be with me?" They had stopped walking and were now standing a few paces away from a wooden bench.

He knew it had been a bad idea, right from the start. Kurt was an independent man; he shouldn't be trying to smother him like this. But god damn it he couldn't bear the thought of being across the city from him for eight hours a day for a whole year. It was now or never.

"Not right away, I have to give more of a notice or it will turn into kangaroo court pandemonium," Blaine explained, stuttering slightly. "But after a bit, if you want, if you'd have me I mean, I'd love to be able to go to your school with you."

The pause that ensued was bloated with Blaine's anxious worries that it was too much he was proposing, and pregnant with Kurt's exhilaration at the idea of his extended separation from Blaine actually being short lived.

"God Blaine, what are you even saying, of course I'd want you to come to my school!" A crease rent the space between his perfectly waxed eyebrows. "But what about the Warblers?"

"You're more important," Blaine replied instantly, without a trace of hesitation or a note of insincerity in his voice. He meant it so much that he didn't even have to think about it; his love for Kurt was a knee jerk response and that made Kurt so incredibly happy. There was no way that he ever would have thought someone as amazing as Blaine would care enough about him to not only leave a wonderful school, but a place where he was popular and important to come to a school where he was bound to be ridiculed for whom he loved. . . No, Kurt had never even hoped that something like this would be possible for him. That someone would ever care for him as much as he did them.

It was the purity of the answer, the absolute certainty that caused Kurt to laugh and throw his arms around Blaine, kissing him deeply and happily right there in the middle of the park. Right in the middle of a public place with the god damn elderly and the god damn kids and the god damn straight couples walking by; let them gawk, let them disapprove. For once Kurt Hummel had defenestrated his worries and couldn't have cared less about PDA or whether he was offending the people around him. In that moment all Kurt cared about was the boy whose lips his knew so well.

When they finally broke apart, both were weak-kneed so they perched on that nearby bench. But they refused to break the physical connection, leaning into each other's shoulders, knees touching, breath exchanged between them.

"I take it you're pretty excited then?" Blaine teased cockily, reaching out to gently push back a stray strand of hair hanging in Kurt's eye. When their gazes met he kept his hand there, calloused palm resting against porcelain cheek, thumb pressed at the corner of his eye. Blaine slowly rubbed circles with his thumb over Kurt's cheekbone and grinned as he shivered. There was no way in hell that he could ever resist Kurt's eyes, or the enticing almost physical need to touch him. When Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes he felt swallowed whole by them, almost as if they were Jonas and the whale from that old bible tale. His entire being was held within Kurt, just as he held his, and together they were so much more than their individual selves.

"Obviously," Kurt sassed back, wishing he had the strength to be his old diva self and shake Blaine's hand off of him, but he couldn't. He loved every second that Blaine was touching him, and he would never forsake it. The touch was like a spark to his skin, the softest velvet, the coldest ice; it never failed to make every cell in his body scream for more.

"There's just one thing," Blaine murmured, leaning his cheek into Kurt's shoulder. For a moment Kurt was confused at his tone, but then he remembered: Blaine had "forgotten" to tell him this seemingly splendid news for a reason, right?

"Go for it!" He nudged him slightly with his elbow so he would continue, almost afraid of what he might hear.

Blaine's eyes darted around, wishing he had different news to impart. "I . . . I told my dad, about, well _us_. And I told him I want him to meet _you_. He's not too pleased and I don't think he wants to but I just want to try. . ." He caught Kurt's stricken expression and blanched, stammering the rest out. "It's totally okay if you don't wanna, it's just, you're so important to me and I want him to know you because you're so amazing and if he just met you he would see it too and it might make things a little easier and well, you know, it's just—"

"No," Kurt said suddenly, clutching at his boyfriends hands and staring directly into his wide eyes. "I would not mind meeting your father at all." Blaine let out a relieved breath as Kurt's lips sharpened into a grim line. He knew Kurt would say yes, it was just, hard to ask at all considering what the other boy had heard. He just loved him all the more for it. "I'll do it for you, as much as it will frighten me out of my Calvin Klein socks to do so." Blaine chuckled at his boyfriend.

"And I bet your underwear is even couture." He tried to nuzzle him lightly, but Kurt scooted away on the bench, offended. Here he was, pretty much throwing himself into the lion's den, and Blaine actually thought his slight obsession for designer clothing _amusing_?

"Don't mock me!" Blaine just laughed again, scooting right back into Kurt's bubble. He hadn't meant to tease like that, but he was just so giddy that Kurt had agreed to it so easily.

"I'm laughing because you're adorable, and I think you're cute. With great taste in clothes. And an amazing voice. And an amazing body. An entirely amazing existence really." Kurt blushed at this, glancing away. "And god you really have no idea how much this means to me, how much you mean to me. I couldn't do this without you." He paused. "Well, other than the obvious reason that it would be hard to introduce you if you weren't there— oh you know what I mean." He kissed Kurt once, quickly, before standing up.

"Wait, now?" Kurt gasped, heart pounding. Of course he wanted to meet the infamous Mr. Anderson, he wanted to know everything about Blaine and meet anyone else who was important to him. Six months in without a formal meeting was odd enough as was, and he was glad Blaine was finally opening up his personal life a bit more. But dropping two bombshells at once and then just expecting him to gallivant over and meet the man who caused so much devastation to Blaine emotionally?

"Of course right now!" Blaine replied, worried, triangular eyebrows perched in a design of bewilderment. Kurt sighed. Could someone say train wreck?

"Of course," he mumbled. He stood up and leaned into Blaine's open arms, kissing his collar bone lightly. As he leaned his face into the warmth offered to him, he felt the rapid beating of Blaine's heart through the pulse in his neck and grimaced. Blaine was putting up a front; he was scared silly but really wanted to go through with it. There was no way Kurt could begrudge him for that. Glancing sideways he saw that Blaine wasn't focused on him, his hazel eyes were misty as he thought about something in a far deeper place than this park.

The thing about Blaine was that everything he felt was visible in his eyes, his mouth, his voice, his body language. He wore his entire personality and feelings on his face for everyone to see, and when he was distracted like this it was not a good sign.

"Hey," Kurt whispered, and Blaine seemed to come back to himself as Kurt caught his lips with his lightly. "I love you, this is going to be perfectly fine alright. He can't touch us," he said, and he could feel Blaine's mouth smiling beneath his own at those old iconic lines. "He can't touch what we have. Anything he hurls at as, anything he uses to try and break us, it can only make us stronger." He quit talking and kissed him again, this time deeper, trying to push courage and strength through this connection.

That was the other thing about Blaine, Kurt thought. He was strong in many ways, but he was also very much broken. He didn't ever talk about home, or about his father except in certain happenstances. Never was his father presented in a positive light. Blaine had been beaten down and broken by whatever words his father had used against him, and there's only so much pressure one can put on stone before it will crack, and even less still before the crack grows into a fissure and the fissure breaks into a fault.

Blaine had a porcelain heart. It was fragile, and it was large. If he didn't watch himself it would consume him entirely, and then Kurt would be left with such an easily breakable man. Loving so easily came with its consequences, and hurting easily was the biggest. Kurt knew this and accepted this, it made him love Blaine all the more. He had decided long ago, and it only became more resilient in this moment, that Blaine's porcelain heart was his to watch over, his to protect. And there was no way in hell he was going to let it crack.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, I'm Kiers._

_Thanks for reading. I tried to make this chapter funny in the beginning; at least, with the response Kurt gave to the elderly women, and a little bit of Blaine's own knowledge on the subject of discrimination. I hope to breach this topic a little more in further chapters._

_This chapter was indeed rushed, but I have been very busy today and just wanted to eke it out. This fic is just for fun, so it won't always be quality and I apologize. I love reviews :3_

_Enjoy!_

The moment ended abruptly with the disgruntled sounds of two elderly women trudging past. Usually Kurt was amused by batty old women in garish clothing and gaudy makeup, but not this time. Mainly because of the outraged glares being tossed their way and the indignant commentary he knew was being made for his and Blaine's benefit. This was not the first time and it wouldn't be the last, but being with someone had taught Kurt a thing or two, and one of them was that he wasn't going to just sit and take any form of bullying ever again.

"Can you believe it Rosie?" the woman with platinum blonde hair that looked dead to the roots demanded. "Least they could do is not bring it out in public for all to see!" Simultaneously Blaine and Kurt felt chills racing down their spines at the offensive commentary.

"The audacity! In my day they had the sense to keep to themselves, confine it to whatever sick places they inhabit," the frumpier companion added with a huff. Blaine, ever being the calmer of the two, tightened his grip around Kurt as the taller boy tried to whip around and tell those old bags just what he thought of their dollar store Clé de Peau knockoff perfume and faux Prada bags and shoes that were _obviously_ snagged from the clearance rack of some mainstream retail store.

"Let me go," Kurt hissed into Blaine's hair. "All I need is one sentence; I can shred their twenty dollar wardrobe and costume jewelry fiasco to pieces!"

Blaine sighed, struggling to keep his composure. "I know you can, which is precisely why I can't let you." Kurt pulled back as far as his boyfriends grip allowed and stared incredulously into his eyes.

"What? You're okay with those badly dressed trussed up judgmental homophobic _peacocks_ getting away with social discrimination? And more importantly I might add, those CLOTHES?" Kurt was clearly distressed.

Dancing back and forth from foot to foot, Blaine was obviously uncomfortable. "Well. . . No. But I don't think they're worth starting trouble over. It's not like they came over and tried to dress us." Kurt shuddered at this. "Or preach us straight." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Thank god for that." Blaine finally released him, but he'd stopped struggling to get away as the old women were already at such a distance that it was not worth wearing down the soles of his Jimmy Choos to go after them. "But really, we can't just let people get away with insulting us just because they don't think who we love is right!" He looked wounded, blue-green eyes wide, eyebrows diving over them in confusion and hurt, mouth twisted.

"But don't you see Kurt," Blaine said tenderly, taking his boyfriends hands. "There are _always_ going to be people that disagree with us, that hate us for _what_ they think we are rather than _who_ we know we are. We can't hand a verbal smack-down to every person who discriminates. _We_ have to be the better people, because one day someone that cannot be defeated that easily will come along, and there will _always_ be people whose minds you just cannot change."

Kurt's mouth screwed itself into a half transfiguration of a sneer and a pout; the result was rather startling. "So you just expect me to let those wardrobe malfunctions walk all over me?" Blaine sighed and leaned his forehead against the other boys, startling him slightly.

"I would neither expect you to do that, nor want you to," he admitted. Kurt was in one of his melodramatic moods again, and when he was like this no one could know exactly how he would react. Except for Blaine. Others would have found him crazy if he ever admitted it, but Blaine found that Kurt's diva antics had grown on him At least he was never short of a laugh at times like these, and it amused him to predict and handle these volatile outbursts. Not that this one was unwarranted. . . But still. When in this moods, Kurt was most definitely entertaining.

"But right now . . .I don't really think it's necessary. You can't change the mind of the old that often, at least try to go for today's youth," Blaine told him. Kurt breathed in deeply, then put the palms of his hands against his boyfriend's face. "I love you and all that you are, even your diva self. But please, for me, can we just go do what we have to do?"

"I love you too," was Kurt's only reply before he kissed his boyfriend quickly and released him, stepping back. "Now let's go." He reached his hand out to Blaine.

Blaine smiled and took it.

"This is your house?" Kurt gasped. They were standing in front of a huge two story building that resembled more of a mansion than any type of normal housing. The walls were steep and a nice creamy shade of white with deep red shingles and speckles of flowers placed on the ledges of the windows. There was an awning over the front patio, and six foot high hedges surrounded the acre large property. Blaine just shrugged.

"A house isn't really a home, is it?" It was an awkward situation for Blaine, considering he'd never hadh is boyfriend over before. He tried to keep Kurt out of any family business because he didn't want him to get caught up in the same string he was. But sometimes life here could get to be too much, and he'd finally realized that giving Kurt his whole self meant giving him the bad parts too. This far into his relationship, Blaine knew Kurt wasn't going to run. At least, he hoped he wouldn't.

No, Blaine shook his head once, startling Kurt beside him. Kurt was better than that, he needed to stop frightening himself. Feeling the grip on his hand tightening, he turned to look at his boyfriend. "Not if you feel like this when you come back to it," Kurt told him with a tightlipped smile. His eyes were stony. "So are we really about to do this?"

"Yup," Blaine sighed, grinning tiredly. Kurt flicked a piece of hair out of his eyes and tossed his head, gaze fierce.

"Alright, then let's go." He began to step forward, but Blaine tugged him back, kissing him softly on the corner of his jaw, then his lips.

"Now we can go." Together they stood still for another second, and together they began to walk up the gravel path.

The front door was large and imposing, arching with a point resembling gothic architecture, painted the same deep red as the roof. If the color was anything to go by, these were possibly the gates to hell.

"Welcome to my home," Blaine muttered as he opened the door, dragged Kurt inside, and shut it adamantly. It was almost as if he was concerned Kurt would try to flee. He tugged Kurt into the foyer, where his mouth dropped open in amazement. This house far defeated any of his late night imaginings on what Blaine's house would look like.

A large marble staircase lined the wall up to the second floor, encased by a huge open room with a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. "Dad will be in the study." He looked embarrassed, but dragged Kurt after him. They entered a smaller room with a low ceiling, deep brown desk shoved into the corner of a room overflowing with papers. A man with huge, curly hair that seemed to consume his head was writing fiercely onto a yellow legal pad.

"Dad," Blaine choked out, and Kurt's eyes went wide as his hand was clutched in what felt like a death grip. "There's someone I want you to meet. . ."


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey it's Kiers!_

_Sorry it has taken me so long to update. This was not only my birthday week, but my best friends as well, and a lot has been going on. Let's just say I went to Universal, got a Chewbacca backpack, met the Phelps twins, had my art seen by Darren Criss, sold some t-shirts etc. etc. making this the best week of my life._

_This isn't quality writing, I'm sorry most of the time I will write it and post it. This is a fanfic, this is for fun. I'm trying to make the story good but I can't guarantee the writing will always be on par with my standards. Truthfully, I write a helluva lot better than this! But it's fun to just write and leave it too, it's good practice._

_I love reviews. Please leave me some. Ask me questions, speculate on what's going to happen, give me opinions. That's what will keep me writing it!_

_Thank you all!_

_{Also, more fun times next chapter, I promise. Angst is just too much fun for me!}_

The man's head hardly moved at all, and his writing definitely did not pause. An awkward silence ensued. Blaine's voice wavered. "Dad!" A sigh escaped his lips as he clicked his pen closed and looked up, running a hand tiredly through his mop of untamed hair.

"What?" Blaine's father finally looked up. He was nothing at all like Kurt had expected. From the things he'd heard. . . he'd expected some kind of large, crew cutter lawyer politician type. What he got instead was a carbon copy of Blaine, but less uptight. His curls covered his head and stuck out in every direction in a way Blaine would never allow; his dark green eyes were obviously the genes behind the green flecks in Blaine's hazel eyes, and they were framed by slim reading glasses, and his chin was coated in a light stubble. Kurt almost choked because he realized this was exactly what Blaine would look like in about twenty years, hobbit height and all.

Thinking of Blaine in twenty years sent a swarm of butterflies to tickle the lining of Kurt's stomach, as did every time he thought of something involving knowing him years from now, of them lasting for years. But now was not the time, nor was it the place for him to be imagining their future together, no, right now it was best to be focused on the absolute present.

"This is Kurt." His voice was strong even as his hand quavered in Kurt's, and Kurt felt his heart swell with pride at the strength and courage it had taken for his boyfriend to bring him here and finally announce his existence. "My boyfriend."

At this, the man's eyes darted sharply from his son to the boy next to him he'd ignored before. He noted their linked hands; Kurt's clothing, and then frowned. "Blaine, I thought you were over this little . . . _experiment._" Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine's hand.

"It's not an experiment Dad, its love." Blaine's father just sighed and took off his glasses, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I'm sure that's what you think right now, but you're young. Teenagers don't know what love is these days." He was rubbing his temples now, and it was starting to annoy Blaine. He wasn't one to get angry about things, unless it was a serious situation. But right now, his father's words were heating something in his abdomen that was far from the usual heat, and he was stirring it further with every declaration he gave. "It's just a phase."

"DAD," Blaine nearly shouted, and his hand clutched Kurt's in a death grip as his voice grew to a higher and higher pitch. "This is Kurt. He's my boyfriend. I'm very much in love with him, and I'm very much gay. Can't you just accept this? Can't you just meet the person who's made me happier than I've ever been before?" His eyes finally drew away from Blaine to focus on Kurt. His voice was dry.

"So you're the boy dragging my son into this?" He scanned down Kurt's meticulously chosen outfit, rolling his eyes. "Well, you're practically flaming. Thanks for burning the mark onto my son too. No way you can walk anywhere without them knowing you're both homo." Kurt's mouth dropped open. "Name's Ralph, you can call me Mr. Anderson if I ever have the misfortune to meet you again."

There was absolute silence. Sometimes silence is good, there doesn't need to be any talking because the people are so utterly comfortable with each other that nothing needs to be said. Sometimes though, silence is bad, and it exists merely because what one person has just said is so unbelievably uninformed and rude that no one can legitimately form a proper response. This silence was of the latter type.

"Now if you please would both get out of my sight. I really didn't need you to bother me with your dramatics right now, there's a very important case I'm working on—"

"_EXCUSE ME_?" Kurt screeched, his voice so high pitched that Blaine winced. He tugged Kurt's hand, worrying creasing his brow.

"Kurt no, it's okay."

"No, tripping over a chair is 'okay'. Spilling juice on the carpet is 'okay'. Basically calling your son deluded and wrong for who he loves is _not fucking okay_." Kurt pulled his hand from Blaine's grasp and stepped forward, his voice clear but still impossibly high. "I don't care what the hell you think of me, or what the hell your views on being gay are. But don't you ever tell your son that him loving me is drama, or that this is just a phase. Your son is gay, get the fuck over it."

By the end of this rant both Blaine and Mr. Anderson were stunned, into the third type of silence, the awkward kind. Kurt was standing right in front of Mr. Anderson's desk, hands planted firmly on his slender hips and a glare stamped onto his elfin features.

Nobody said a word. Kurt tossed his head, turned on hi foot, and left the office with as much grace as he could. Mr. Anderson stared at his son, stoney eyed. Blaine gave him one pleading glance, and then followed his boyfriend out. He was thankful for what he'd said, but it wasn't going to help. Nothing would ever change his father's mind on the of Form

Kurt was waiting outside the study for him, angry tears racing shining tracks down his cheeks. "I'm sorry Blaine," he muttered, wiping the tears away angrily. "But the things he were saying, I know they cut you deep." Blaine reached out and took Kurt in his arms.

"Yeah they cut me. Words can do that to a person. But what you did in there... Don't apologize for it. Because you said everything I've been feeling for years now. Thank you for standing up for me." He kissed his boyfriend once, sweetly, and wiped away his tears with the edge if his sleeve. That's when Kurt noticed.

"Blaine," Kurt demanded, grabbing his boyfriend by the forearm tightly. "What's on your wrist! Blaine's face twisted into a grimace and he immediately tried to pull back and winced, but Kurt was stronger than he seemed.

"Nothing!" He stammered, heart pounding against his ribcage. Now was not the time, this was not the place. . . He couldn't have Kurt find out like this, find out EVER actually. This weakness, this wouldn't fit with the image Kurt had if him. His dad had already torn him down a notch, he didn't need another crack in his facade.

Kurt pulled down his sleeve and hissed. What had been covered by Blaine's cardigan sleeve was an array of deep inflamed scratches stretching the length of Blaine's forearm. "What the fuck are these?"

Bottom of Form


	6. Chapter 6

_No excuse for the wait, just apologies._

_This is very angsty. ANGSTSMUT in my book, but I promise some fun sexual times next chapter. Just needed to get this part out of the way. But please, don't assume that's the end of the matter!_

_As always, I LOVE REVIEWS, I need them to get the strength to write more. XD_

_Oh and you can find me on Tumblr where I had a recent URL change._

_Kiersthehalf-applejuiceprince_

_Enjoy!_

"I can explain," Blaine whispered, frantically trying to tug out of Kurt's grip. "But not here."

"Take me to your room then," Kurt hissed in return, releasing Blaine's arms and gripping his hand tightly. "Right now." Often Blaine had imagined those words escaping his boyfriend's mouth, often he'd imagined a scenario where they needed to race off into seclusion together. But never had he imagined it quite like this.

There was a pause as Blaine considered his options. His father wouldn't bother him again, he hardly talked to him normally so it wasn't as if he was going to seek him out; anyways, he'd rather have this conversation in private than outside. He nodded once, glancing down and away from Kurt's searching gaze; he couldn't bear to look at him.

Stairs were taken two at a time as they scurried up the staircase in the foyer. To Kurt's credit, he hardly even registered the marvelous décor and furnishings because he was so concerned about his boyfriend.

Kurt really had no idea what he was feeling, other than very frightened. Blaine was such a puppy most of the time, grinning and smiling with sparkling eyes. At times it seemed that Dapper Blaine had been an illusion, and Puppy Blaine had taken over. Never once had he suspected anything such as this lurked behind Blaine's eager persona. Never once had the thought that not everything was perfect crossed his mind. And he hated himself for it.

Of all things, Kurt prided himself on his power of observation. He, like Santana oddly enough, always knew who was dating who, what drama was going on, and how people felt, because for so long he'd had nothing to do but watch his peers interact around him. For so long he'd remained silent and merely observed the situations of the adolescent population as the outcast, until he finally joined them. Though joining them did not mean that he should allow himself to lose who he truly was, or make him care any less for those he loved.

Never before had another boy meant so much to him. God damnit never had another human being meant as much to him as Blaine did . . . and for Blaine to be hurting and for him not to realize it . . . well, Kurt wasn't sure he could forgive himself for that.

They entered his room through a dark brown door with the Dalton Academy crest banner hanging from it. Blaine chuckled nervously. "Going to have to get rid of that I guess." Kurt's expression remained stony as he followed him in.

Blaine stood nervously, bouncing from foot to foot. Hardly anyone was ever at his house, let alone his room, so this was a double negative situation. Kurt took in the room quickly. The Sweeney Todd poster, the show choir trophies, the extensive amount of cardigans that practically carpeted the floor. What caught his eye though was a small billboard hanging above Blaine's desk, next to the closet. Stepping closer, Kurt saw that it was covered in pictures. There were a few of Blaine with Wes and David, and some pictures from regionals, but the other twenty or so were of him and Blaine.

His mouth dropped. There was one of him sleeping on Blaine's shoulder, one of him laughing, one of standing there giving his bitch look of doom, all taken from awkward angles obviously from Blaine's cell phone. There were about seven of those, then many of them together that he remembered taking. Kissing each other's cheeks, holding hands. It wasn't a shrine, but Kurt was most definitely the main attraction. Blaine's face went white.

"Oh my god, this is creepy isn't it," he whispered, twisting his hands together. Oh he knew it, he was weird. He was obsessive. He was a freak and now that Kurt knew all this weird stuff about him he's see him for as he truly was and leave him. Oh god why had he taken Kurt here he was stupid he was so fucking stupid. "I just, I don't always get to see you as much—"

"Oh shut up," Kurt told him, spinning around and revealing the grin that had stretched his beautiful face. "I've got a box with pictures of us under my bed." There was a slight pause before they both burst out laughing, obviously relieved. Kurt kissed him once, and then his grin faded. He took his boyfriends hand and sat down on the bed with him. "Blaine," he whispered. "Can you please tell me what happened to your arms?" All anger had left, now there was just worry stirring in his eyes.

There it was, the question Blaine had most feared. The momentary relief he'd received over the board of pictures was lost as true panic set in. There was absolutely no way to excuse or justify the wounds that splatter painted his arms. No, there was no way to possibly explain any of this or make it seem any better, so he might as well tell the truth.

A deep shuddering breath filled Blaine's chest, expanding his lungs and pressing against his ribs, his heart nearly pounding out his untrimmed chest. For the first time, Blaine opened his mouth to tell somebody why he hurt.

"It's self-harm." Kurt's grip on his hand tightened.

"I know."

His hazel eyes found Kurt's blue-green ones, and it was as he lost himself in those hazy pools that he finally told his story. "When I was seven, I had a best friend named Damien. We did everything together. We didn't really understand the 'boys vs. girls' gender thing, and we held hands. My father saw, sent Damien home, and then beat me. He grabbed my arms and scratched them with his nails, he left scars. He left nothing but bruises elsewhere, but he took my arms so roughly that I'll be sure never to forget that day.

"When I hurt too much, when he hurts me too much with his words, when other people's ignorance and hate threatens to boil up and overflow, I try to scratch out the marks he left on me." His eyes oddly enough were dry. Blaine thought he knew why. Sometimes crying was all you had left, but sometimes, a wound was so raw and reopened so often that you were used to it. That had to be the worst thing to have happen he decided, to have something so horrible leave you unaffected because it occurs so often.

"Blaine," Kurt mumbled, cupping his boyfriend's cheek. During war, when there was an explosion that happened too close you felt stunned, everything seemed brighter and quieter and louder and more significant and less important and forming words was about as difficult as lifting yourself with merely your fingertips. Kurt's heart felt so heavy in his chest he thought he might just tip right over, and his ears were ringing so loud he wondered if his brain had been replaced with bells. The term for this was shell-shocked.

"Kurt," he replied, smiling crookedly. But it didn't reach his eyes. Without looking away, Kurt released Blaine's hands and went for his cardigan, slowly unbuttoning it. Blaine stiffened; he knew this wasn't leading to anything sexual. Slowly, eyes locked on Blaine's, he slid the soft fabric off of Blaine's shoulders, pulling out the sleeves as well. Now his arms were bare.

"I love you. And your scars." He pulled Blaine's arm up to his mouth, kissing the skin at the base of his palm lightly, the only unmarred flesh left. "I can't erase them, but I can hold them with you." And then his lips found the red scab of one cut and he kissed it. Then they found another, and another. Kurt traced his lips up each half-healed wound, each glimmering scar, over any sign of pain that his lover had tattooed onto himself permanently.

He repeated this with his left arm as well. As heavy as his heart was, he hoped he was lightening Blaine's load. No one should ever feel so alone and so worthless that they had to self-harm. No one should ever have such bad memories that they couldn't seem to scratch them out even when they attempted this over and over.

When he finished, he lifted his head up and found Blaine's mouth with his own, kissing deeply, conveying without words how truly he loved him and how much he was willing to hold him up. He took Blaine's face in his hands and traced the lines like his lips had traced his scars; he never wanted to forget any part of Blaine. He was hesitant at first, but soon Blaine returned the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt. "You taste like tears," Kurt said as they broke apart. "But you haven't been crying."

"I don't cry anymore, I just cut," Blaine replied simply. Kurt winced at the tone, but noticed as Blaine's eyes softened. "But maybe instead, from now on, I'll just kiss you. Because nothing makes me happier than when I'm kissing you."

Kurt smiled broadly, running his fingers quickly down each of Blaine's arms, feeling the hardening scabs beneath his tender touch. Then he leaned in to kiss him again.


End file.
